


My Love, My Drug

by Astroash94



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Death, Depression, Drugs, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, Fire, Gay Sex, I Don't Even Know, Illegal Activities, Lots of Sex, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mood Swings, Multi, Murder, OT4, Organized Crime, Other, Polyamory, Prison, Prison Sex, Strong Language, Top Ashton, Trans Male Character, Trans Michael, Transgender, genus ashton, law breaking, power bottom michael clifford, they're in prision
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-05-23 03:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14926451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astroash94/pseuds/Astroash94
Summary: "Suck my dick, Hood!""I would if you had one."Basically, the boys go to maximum security prison. The four prisoners come together to rule until they don't.





	1. First Rule of Prison

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know much about prisons or the law, especially the parts dealing with the arrest of someone during transition, so like, feel free to tell me (kindly) if you know. Overall though, it's fiction so if its not all right it shouldn't really matter too much,
> 
>  
> 
> <3

The first rule of prison is to find the biggest guy in there and put him on his ass. At least that's what Luke has always heard. However, he is more likely to try blending in with the wall than fight anyone in a maximum security, highly guarded torture box.

***

There was a small man leading the new inmates around, much shorter than Luke and much more intimidating. He had an alphabetical list he was going by in order to place people in rooms in one tattooed hand. They circled around in odd patterns that made Luke wonder what need he had for the list. Luke was in a line of probably thirty other men, and when it diminishes - putting Luke front and center to their guide - he gets a sympathetic one-sided smile through closed lips. 

"Ah, shit, kid, what are you? Nineteen, twenty?" The man had a light voice, higher than expected, and styled feather-like hair he kept running his right hand through. "Fucked your whole life away, mate."

"Twenty-Three," Luke mumbles, nonchalantly trying to read the words across the guides forearms. He couldn't quite distinguish it, even squinting to see the small print. 

The smaller of the two blue-eyed men shakes his head, glancing down at his clipboard of names and numbers, "Motherfuck," he whispers, more to himself than anything, but Luke still questions it. He's decided that his guide may be a good friend to have, someone who knows the building and the people in it. "You're definitely not where you want to be, Hemmings." 

They round a corned Luke is sure they've been around at least four times already and stop in front of a closed door. "Look kid, if you need somethin' I might be able to help, but just-just don't piss anybody off. Keep your mouth shut and your hands to your own shit; Keep out of their way, don't stare. And Hemmings," He finally turns to the now shaking newbie say, "if you wanna make it to next week, when Red says 'jump' you ask how high." 

Before Luke can ask who 'Red' 'is and why he's so dangerous his guide is back to work. The young new inmate faintly feels a small pat on his shoulder before his guide is knocking and shoving the metal door open. There is a series of grunts and complains before Tomlinson - as the newly discovered tag on the opposite side of his shirt reads - shouts "Newbies, gentlemen!" 

"The fuck has that got to do with us, Tommo?" It's way too loud and a few of the senior inmates pause to check the door before going about their day. Luke could almost swear he hears a moan seconds before his maybe-friend and guide explains to the voice that they're receiving a roommate.

Luke nearly screams when a body is suddenly pushing the slightly ajar door open even more, blocking any view to the cell with his half nakedness. Luke will admit - if only to himself - that the man is attractive. He's a bit shorter than Luke's 6'2 frame and not as broad, but far more muscular. The man looks as if he could cut glass with his jawline - which flexes with annoyance - he's clean shaven and although his hair is messy it's clearly been cut and styled recently. 

There's another sound that Luke is now positive is a moan before he and all the other newbies hear a rough voice complain. "Tell 'em t' go 'way!" 

"Fuck off!" The god-like creature blocking the door snaps to a voice that sasses, "Well, I was trying to." 

The god puts his tongue to his top teeth, sucking in, breathing deep and closing his dark hazel eyes. "As you can see, we're kinda busy. Take him back to placement." 

"Can't man, Sargent will have my ass - and probably yours - if I skip this block again." Tomlinson reasons with the pissed off god. "Look, go easy on 'im, alright." 

Maybe the guide wasn't such a friend because he pushes Luke towards an angry Zeus so that he stumbles with his arms full of supplies into a closing door.

Remembering what his not-so friend had said about staying out of the way he decides to sit beside of the door hinges, as he didn't have a job or anything to do as he waited for them to finish... whatever it is they were 'busy' with. He tries not to wonder how often this is going to happen, realizing there is most likely a third roommate he could ask and maybe even hang out with if this continues. 

The next thing the twenty-three-year-old knows he's being kicked awake by the ugly prison shoes pressing into his orange covered rib-cage. He has no way to know what time it is or how long he's been asleep out here. He's obviously not going to ask the inmate waking him. The man is wearing the standard grey pants and white tank that shows he's been here much longer than Luke has.

"Get up and get your shit together before the night count." He snaps, grabbing a few of Luke's things that somehow hadn't been stolen and throwing them through the heavy door. It doesn't take long to match his voice to the man that had sassed Zeus from behind the scenes. Actually though, Luke has to wonder if this is where all the hot guys he had been looking for in high school had gathered to hide from him. This man is nearly as muscular as the last and just as god-like. 

Luke slowly creeps behind him through the door, and the tanned god rips the bedding from his hands, presumably because he was taking too long. "You're there and only there." He's put the bedding on the empty bottom bunk, "Stay to your own shit and keep in mind no one wants you here." 

The blond boy nods, quickly making his bed and keeping anything else sat close to him on it as he waits for the guards to call them out, probably to count them. Or, that's how it went on T.V. at least. his eyes land on the same tan man, running them from his hands to his neck and back again. He has a few scattered images inked into his skin, words, pictures, symbols. Luke commits it all to memory; Tattoos say a lot about the person wearing them.

He only wonders for a moment if he had somehow missed people entering and exiting the cell when a body on the top bunk above the tanned beauty shifts to lean down to him. While Luke had expected the previous Greek God to slice the silence with jawbones of pure sex, he wasn't disappointed in the new man's genes either. 

He's hanging upside down from the bunk, his face towards Luke. There's light stubble on his cheeks and chin but aside from that, it is instantly known who the 'Red' that he was earlier warned of referred to, the rest of the hair on any visible part of his body is a bright, unnatural red. It suits him well. 

He turns onto his stomach, eyeing Luke up and down. "Not the worst we could've gotten, I suppose." Red muses, "Kinda pretty, overly awkward, just your type. Hmm, Ash?" 

The imprisoned Zeus hums from beside the redheaded man. He sits up beside the smaller inmate, nearly bumping his head on the ceiling due to his height. Luke jumps in his place as Red rolls from the top bunk, making his way towards the young blond. 

He grips Luke's chin in his hand, far too aggressively for the younger man's liking, but no one asked him. It's only then that Luke really notices how small this man is. This is what his guide had been afraid of? This is who had made countless felons freeze in mid-step? 

He's absolutely tiny, only a head taller than Luke who is sitting down. There is no way this man exceeds 5' foot. His hands don't quite cover the area Luke knows he wants to, he's trying to squish his cheeks but can't quite reach. 

He's still extremely intimidating. 

"I like his eyes," Red smirks, "If he's good, we may keep him." 

Honestly, Luke isn't sure he wants to know what the apparent leader means by that. There's no time to elaborate as he's suddenly being pushed from the room and counted like cattle. He stands shoulder to shoulder with the tanned beauty, on the same wall as Red and Zeus but separated by the cell door. They're face to face with men closer to Zeus' size in muscle and nearing Luke's height. 

He's yet again being tugged around like a rag doll as Zeus pulls him back into the cell, the tanned beauty slamming the door behind the cell. Luke assumes it is to be locked soon. 

"Already attracting some attention, huh Princess?" Red chuckles, probably referring to one of the many starring men Luke had failed to notice in his moment of absolute terror. He has had a few of those moments since his arrival.

"W-What?" 

They all seem to find the youngest man's confusion hilarious, breaking out into fits of laughter. "Like I said, you're kinda pretty. What's ya' name, kid?"

"L-Luke." 

"Last name, Princess, you use your last name." 

Red still seems to be the only one willing to talk to him. Which may be a good thing, if he's as feared as Tomlinson made him out to be. Maybe instead of finding the biggest man and getting his face beat in, Luke could find the most feared and befriend him. Fuck him if he had to, hell Luke didn't even care if it would keep everyone else off his ass. 

"Uh, H-Hemmings?"

"You sure? Because you don't sound sure, H-Hemmings." The tiny man should be the last person in this hell hole to have any authority.

"I'm sure. It's Hemmings." 

"Bet your dick it is," He laughs like a bar-side douchebag. "That's Hood, Ink," He nods to the tanned beauty, then to Zeus as he continues, "Irwin, I call 'im Curls, wouldn't suggest that for you." 

"Clifford, but stick with Red if you have any fondness towards your balls." 

What in the hell is up with the penis references?

"Got it," The newbie mumbles. 

Red smiles a sinister kind of smile as he nods to the other two men, "See," 

"Lights out, Ladies!" A deep voice yells down the hallway before the sound of locks sliding into place is put on repeat. "That means you, Clifford."

Red grits his teeth, "Fuckin' twat." 

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" The officer - guard? - speaks through the door. 

"I could sue you for mental abuse and harassment, you pig!" Red beats a small fist on the heavy metal door. 

"This is a prison, darlin', thought you'd be used to men up your petite little ass by now." 

Zeus - Irwin - pulls the small man away from the cell door, covering his mouth with a large hand. "Let it go, Mike, he's winding you up."

Their lights drop dramatically, and while it's not complete darkness, it's enough to make Luke's skin crawl. 

"He can't do that shit," Red mumbles, "He can't." 

"Technically," Hood speaks up, "he can. No one's going to stop him. Even if you press charges, you'll still be stuck with him. Fighting him will only make it worse." 

"Pin him on harassment and abuse of authority, they've gotta at least kick him out of the block, right?"

"He'll just say it wasn't aimed at you. There's no way, babe."

"Fuck me," Red groans, he's laying on the bottom bunk across from Luke. "I can't deal with that bigoted piece of shit." 

"Can," Zeus argues from the bunk above the small, angry man. "Don't let him know he gets to you. Stop letting his bullshit get to you." 

His advice is almost overshadowed by the tanned beauty's exclamation of, "Gladly!" in response to Red's prior mention of sex.

It gets a positive reaction out of both of the other senior prisoners as they laugh quietly. Red looks through the small amount of light to see Hood grinning right back at him cheekily. 

"Goddamnit, Hood!" He smiles, Luke can barely see it from his spot with his back against the wall. He vaguely hears them talking, trying himself to tune out everything from them to his own mind in order to find sleep.

"Afraid of the dark, Princess? Princess!" Luke snaps his eyes from the cell door, that he couldn't remember focusing on, to the intimidating redhead. 

"Hmm?"

He sees too many faces in the dark, sets of eyes that shouldn't be there. He internally freaks out until he realizes that the beauty and Zeus had both somehow slipped down into Red's bunk. He wonders for a bit too long on how the two large men managed to fit together in such a small place. Adding in the leader of this cult-like relationship, however small he may be, seems impossible to the blond. Still yet he's sat across from the three tangled bodies with no doubt they're all there. 

"Try to get some sleep, kid." Irwin seems to shake his head is disheveled hair. Although Luke, again, isn't sure how movement is possible. 

He tries not to think about the fact that that's the first thing either of Red's followers have willingly vocalized to him. Hood's rough meeting didn't quite count as someone had to force the blond into the room. 

Actually, it's the first thing the God-like man has mentioned towards him in any way, shape, or fashion since he entered their now-shared cell. It wasn't rude or condescending either... It may have had a twinge of kindness laced somewhere beneath the disinterest in his voice. 

It doesn't do much to calm his whirling mind, however. Luke feels as if someone had taken one of those 'bottled tornadoes' and let it loose inside his head. He had been in town for less than twelve hours, in this building for less than six. He was only now truly being allowed in the tiny room he was forced to call home for what was to be far too long. 

Luke thought over his trial. His lawyer had seemed so confident in his case, he knew they were going to win. He kept telling Luke's worried family to remain calm, there was no danger. No doubt he walks. They couldn't out the youngest Hemmings away for anything. 

Luke even found himself believing it, towards the end. He had known better than to have hope. He felt bad for his family, his mother who spoke of their annual vacations as if her child would attend. He felt for the lawyer, whose career must have taken a hit from losing what should have been an easy win.

He felt for his guide, who seemed to mean well in his work within this prison. He felt for the inmates who'd been locked here with little hope for much longer than he cared to think about being stuck.

He felt bad for everyone. The tanned beauty who deserved to be trapped on the front of magazines, frozen in time. 

Everyone he's met in his twenty-three years of self-destructive time on this Earth deserves much better than they have. The strong, detached man who'd offhandedly attempted to calm a raging soul. Someone uninvited to the Alpha males territory. He still didn't bare his teeth or snarl. 

The small, strong-willed man who seemed overly affected by simple jars and teasing. Who had a clear hatred for authority and a love for penis jokes. 

As he'd seen so far, no one deserved to be trapped between the same four walls for the rest of their lives. None, except for one. 

***

The final ruling in the case of Hemmings vs. The Public has shocked many as the twenty-three-year-old son of Elizabeth and Andrew Hemmings was found guilty of charges regarding ...  
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	2. Two Birds (Surrounded By Wire)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated it, so I changed it. :-)

Two birds sat in the hallway of the eldest Hemmings' home, reminding him only of the absence of a needed presence. Ben couldn't quite believe, Jack couldn't quite cope. Luke didn't quite care, those birds never liked him much either way.

***

Luke half expected to wake up in his childhood home with his mother worrying over breakfast. He was quickly thrown into his blurred version of reality.

The first thing he noticed was the excessive amount of light attacking his fragile eyes. The very next thing to click in his brain was the deep voices, way too loud for sensitive ears.

It took a moment of unmoving silence in Luke's part to realize the noises he head weren't words, and the voices weren't taking. However, unsure of how to let the men in on the newly conscious member of their group, he pulls his small pillow over his ears. He tried to subtly turn to the wall to his right but ended up kicking his toilet paper off of the end of the small bed.

He doesn't move for awhile, time slows a bit in his mind, he doesn't know these men or what they would do to him. His guide had said to stay to himself and not to stare. Luke now understood what that meant, whatever relationship these three had, they didn't want any witnesses. Not shy, but possessive.

After what seems like hours of endless shuffling and anticipation, a loud, familiar chuckle makes its way to Luke's ears. "Well, well. Looks like Princess here has decided to join the living! You missed breakfast, cupcake."

Luke's pillow is tugged to the floor and he's met with a fully-dressed Red. He isn't sure if he's allowed to look for the others, unsure which had been with the smaller man moments ago. "What's wrong, Princess? Afraid you might see something you like? You can look, they're not shy."

It seemed like a bit of a bold statement for someone fully dressed, but again, Red intimidates Luke just a bit more than he should. He lets his eyes slide to the bunk across from them as Red puts his ass on the mattress beside the blonde's hips.

The tanned man's beauty increased tenfold with the absence of his tank top. That, however, wasn't even enough to hold Luke's attention as Irwin stood from the too-small bed in nothing but a pair of too tight black boxers.

Don't stare.

"No, we're not," Zeus confirms stepping in front of the unnatural redhead and slipping his large - the man has some big ass hands, Luke notices - hands up the sides of Red's T-shirt, resting them on his bare hips. "Someone, though, has grown a conscience since your arrival... What is he calling you? Princess? Since your arrival, Princess."

Red glares hard enough to make the new inmate flinch, but his lover held strong in his place. "None of anyone's fucking business, Irwin."

The youngest of the four watches a storm brew in Red's eyes. He looks ready to hand Zeus the depths of Hell on a silver platter. Hood must notice it as well because he steps in before his cellmate could receive the lashing - whether that was too be a physical or merely verbal lashing, Luke couldn't tell. 

"Lunch is at twelve exactly, it's ten." He explains rather unwillingly. Luke knew this, of course, he had been informed of the many rules a hundred times over by multiple different guards. "You just gonna sit your ass here all day? 'Cause I can't really cope with that, Princess" 

"'less you gotta reason to." 

The last part seems more directed to the senior inmates and was uttered by none other than the King of Greek Gods himself.

The formalness of last names was already starting to get on Luke's nerves. He couldn't seem to force himself to use their legally given third names within the confinement of his own mental self. Luke worried for a quick minute that he may accidentally call the felons by the names he had unconsciously assigned them. It wasn't hard to figure out how horribly bad that scenario would play out. Because, although he believed 'Zeus' and 'Beauty' to be extremely complementary, he knew the others wouldn't feel quite as he did.

He resolved this problem by deciding on never addressing any of them directly. 

Luke cowered completely into the wall as Red uses his tiny arm span - wingspan? Luke couldn't decide the appropriate terminology as the man seemed the size of a cardinal - to retrieve the items the new inmate had pushed to the floor. 

"Keep your shit off the ground, Princess, someone might trip." The rough voice spits more of a threat than anything. Luke racks his brain for what he has done to upset the redheaded leader. 

He comes up with nothing and moves his eyes from Irwin's chest to - oh, mystery solved. 

He sets a mental reminder to mentally scold himself for that later. What kind of idiot eye-rapes the lover of a convicted criminal? Not to mention that most everyone Luke has encountered so far seems slightly scared of the man.

Luke also uses this moment to point out to himself how absolutely insane he's going already. 

"Got it, Hemmings?" The toilet paper is hitting his face, and he nods so fast he's sure he has whiplash. "Good, I was starting to like you, don't fuck it up." 

"Yes, sir," Luke mumbles without quite processing it. 

It cleared the air a bit as the senior inmates laughed at his expense. 

The three talk among themselves and the fourth tries not to eavesdrop. It's harder than expected because they aren't quite men. He squirms in his place on the too small bed, attempting to ignore his need for a restroom and attract the smallest amount of attention possible. 

Once ignoring it was no longer an option, the youngest man creeps to the door. Again, attention is not something he wanted in this place. Thankfully, he doesn't get any as he walks into the nearly deserted halls. There are far fewer men roaming today than what he remembered of yesterday. 

Now, however successful his escape was, he was faced with an entirely new problem. He had absolutely no idea where he was, or how to go about getting to where he needed to be. And he had put himself on a very small time frame. 

Wandering the halls seemed like his best option. Well, better than the alternative of standing there hopelessly lost and pissing himself. Or worse, returning to the cell room to interrupt and ask for direction. Yeah, like hell he would. 

Nearly ten minutes and a bit of a 'too-close-for-comfort' moment with a buff man at the urinals later and he's roaming again. He's found an area where men seem to be doing little to nothing and passed a library. 

A hand on his shoulder stops his exploring. He prepares to be screamed at by a man - or woman - in far too much blue, but he's met with the usual grey uniform. 

Well, no, he's eye level with light brown and soft looking hair. Upon further inspection though, he recognizes his guide from the day before. 

"Nice to see you're still breathing," Tomlinson laughs in the younger man's ear. "How'd ya' first night with the Suicide Squad go, kid?"

"Still breathing." Luke reminds, not having much to say on the subject, although he can't help but have some questions. He lets his mouth form words before he can fully think them through, knowing he'll never get his answers if he doesn't.

He doesn't get to ask, they're called to lunch before that mistake could be made. Probably for the best, as Tomlinson later mentions to eyes and ears that the walls seem to grow with any new gossip.

The two eat lunch outside near a basketball court that both admit they would have little luck with. It's not until dinner that Luke is forced to interact with the general public.

Luke manages to get to a table with his new 'friend' - he's still not too sure - without any major issues. A man does trip him as Luke passes his table, something it seems he's doing to everyone in orange, to which Tomlinson rolls his own blue eyes at. "Give it a rest, Demarco."

"He picks on all the newbies," The shorter man explains as they approach a table, "Demarco's all talk and petty pranks, though."

"Why you always end up with a newbie, Tommo?" One of the men questions from the long table. 

'Tommo' shrugs, throwing his arm around the man's shoulders. "I saved your sorry ass your first week, aye, Corden? 'sides, the kid is roomed with Red's crew, needs all the extra help he can get."

The faded faux blond at the end of the line of men laughs a bit louder than nessasary. The whole table watches in mild amazement as he slides an extra cup of sugared strawberries down to the true blond. "Guess you need this more than me then."

Luke still didn't really understand the big deal behind Red. He seemed fine. Mildly aggressive, overly possessive, cocky and full of himself, and sure, maybe he overreacted a lot. Still, not the most terrifying person locked in the place. 

"What's the big deal with him anyway? Red?" Luke questions, leaning in slightly towards Tomlinson and Corden. They're across the table from him and he doesn't want the whole prison to hear him bashing their king. "Little ball of paranoid aggression, innit he?"

No one seems to be supplying an answer so he continues, "I mean, I've been warned or whatever since I got here. I was expecting like, I don't know, the Hulk?"

Corden lifts his shoulders, giving a look that the blond can't quite decipher. 

"Whatever I thought, well, wasn't what I got. I mean, come on. The guys a fucking pygmy goat, what kind of damage can he really do?" 

You see, Luke never really talked much. His whole life he has opted more to the silent and scared type. 

This was partly by choice, partly because when he did open his mouth he always seemed to get himself in trouble.

This was no different. 

"Wanna find out, Princess?" 

The voice was loud in his right ear. It was meant to be heard across the room, and it did not disappoint. It reminded Luke vaguely of the Joker's drawled out threats.

Full, dark colored lips brushed across Lukes earlobe. He shivered. 

Small, rough hands gripped on to both broad shoulders. Almost massaging, except Luke knew he would have bruises.

"We can arrange for that, Baby Boy." 

The man beside Luke on the bolted chairs was on his feet moments before Luke stiffened in his seat. He straightened his back, hands forming fists on the tabletop. Unwillingly, he gasps, as if he's in true pain. 

Luke closes his eyes as a disgusting mixture of corn, mashed potatoes, strawberries, and whatever else had been on Red's plate rolls down the slope of his upturned nose.

"Watch your back..." Red smirks, although Luke couldn't see him due to both the food in his eyes and the fact that his back was to the other man. He'd bet nearly anything the small man was standing to his full height, hands across his chest with the smirk to rival all smirks plastered across his face. He'd also bet a large sum of money that both the irritable Beauty and maybe-kind Zeus were by Red's side, mirroring him in a larger form. "Or mine, if you're into that, Princess."

Red laughs, going to take another plate from the kitchen, smug and happy as ever. Zeus goes to wait at a table across the room, but the Beauty doesn't move. 

"Damn, Hemmings, I was rooting for you." He lies.

***

Elizabeth Hemmings, mother of defendant Lucas Hemmings in the Hemmings vs The Public trail, opens up about the trail, her family's views, and her son. She says he is... 

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	3. Quarter-to-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently- 2:25 am :-)

No one just wakes as top dog in prison. It's earned. It's fought for. But, before a group can rule, they must have a leader.

***

Luke had officially dug his own grave. Not only that, but it seems he's built the coffin as well. He had a knack for that type of thing. It's no surprise as his whole life seems to follow this pattern. 

In all honesty, he had expected to last longer than he had managed. Less than twenty-four hours and he's already royally fucked. 

After the dinner show, Luke attracted the attention of a few less-than-friendly men. His earlier acquaintances made a point of distancing themselves from the young blond as quickly as possible. 

So maybe calling Red a 'pygmy goat' had been a bit too far. Still, the man had to know he was tiny. Luke is tall, he knows he's tall. Red is not, it's not a big deal. Genetics suck dude. 

They didn't really have much time between dinner and lights-out. So, Luke spent his time wisely. He put himself as far away from the cell he was assigned as possible. His plan was to act lost - shouldn't be too hard, he'd probably need no acting - when they called for the prisoners to report to their cells. The least amount of time he spent stuck with the pretty, angry man, the better. 

All too soon, however, he found himself sitting on the twin sized bed. The three hadn't crowded into one bed this time. Luke assumed Irwin had taken the top bunk above his own as the beauty and Red took up the other set of joined bedding. The beauty was half naked, sprawled across space he didn't exactly have. He had one tattooed arm under his head, the other slung across his own inked chest. Luke supposed the nickname - Ink - made sense, he didn't dare to read the permanent words.

Red had two of the regulation blankets thrown across his bed. One was under his body, keeping his skin from touching the bedding, the other oddly wrapped up with his legs. 

It was quiet, unlike the previous night Luke had spent in the cell. He figured Red had already fallen asleep, given that he hadn't tried to strangle the blond yet. Maybe he was waiting until Luke fell asleep?

The only human-to-human interaction for what felt like a lifetime was Hood raising an arm to tap on the side of his lovers bet for a quick moment. Red didn't respond, but the other man wasn't visibly bothered. He only returned to his previous position, snoring minutes later. 

Just as Luke was falling into the depths of his own mind - that awkwardly aware state of almost-sleep - the sheets of someone's bed ruffled. 

"Curls,"

It was the softest, most sincere tone that Luke had ever heard from any man within the prison walls. 

"Curly-Q," the long sounds of the letter was drawled out unnecessarily. "Man-Bun. Irwin. Babe? Ash, come on. Ashton! You're not asleep, jackass." 

Luke was not meant to hear this. 

"Baby Curls..." 

"Hmph," The reply was not inviting. Luke would've shut up at that point, but Red didn't get the memo. 

"Hell, Curls, what do want me to do, baby." 

Luke tried to even his breathing. Slow and deep. He knew Red had turned to face his side of the room now. 

"I'm really not liking the cold shoulder thing, Curly." 

"I didn't ask, did I? Jesus, Mike, will you just go to sleep. I can deal with my own shit."

This time Red huffed, "Can you? You could've fooled me. You're shakey again and-"

"Fuck off, Michael." 

-> ++ <-

Luke didn't miss breakfast this time, but he might as well have. 

He noticed that while his dinner group from the night before still welcomed him kindly, he was much less under their protective - metaphorical - wing. 

This wasn't quite like the movies. The whole prison didn't seem to be out for Luke's head. They were as hostile as you would expect. He wasn't starved, not completely anyway. He received the usual food, in only slightly smaller portions. He barely noticed himself, it could've been a coincidence. He didn't get the 'perks' that most others did, e.g. the extra strawberries, syrup on Sundays pancake days. 

He wasn't really welcomed in most places, but that was kind of okay for him, more excuses not to socialize. 

He quickly found routine in being as far from Red as physically - and legally? - possible. Kept to himself, the small group he ate with - strickly during meal times - avoided the restrooms. Get up early, leave first. Arrive early, leave last. 

He refused to shower, for as long as he could hold out. 

It worked for awhile - going on three weeks - when his whole game plan crumbled. 

He finally gave up, deciding to shower. Careful to keep that a personal matter, he woke up earlier than the usual 'early'. He hated it, but there was a much smaller chance of an unwanted encounter this way. 

Cells were unlocked at six o'clock on the dot, he had two hours until breakfast. Meaning he had roughly an hour and a half until people really started to rise from their beds. He had easily picked up on the fact that most of these men where late risers and night shower-ers.

Luke made it nearly three-fourths of the way through the fastest shower of his life before he was disturbed. It was a strong hope in the back of the blond head that the other man would do whatever he needed to do and leave Luke the hell alone. 

It worked for the most part, until Luke had to leave the comfort of the curtain covered shower. He awkwardly slid his clothes over his damp body. It was super uncomfortable but he would have to deal with it. 

Creeping out of the showers and avoiding any human contact was the easiest part of Luke's morning. There were maybe twelve other men in the restroom/shower area by this point. Wide blue eyes searched for an exit, it was a true no-brainer. The exit closest was to the left of Luke's shower stall, but overly crowded. The toilet stalls and urinals lead to two walls filled with sinks, a longer walk, but far less chance of contact. 

Sneaking past the sinks proved to be the wrong choice. Luke had already been caught with his eyes in the wrong place during his stay in the metal barred hell, and it was about to happen again. 

He made swift work of passing the toilets, shifting his eyes every now and then. He took a quick look at himself in one of the few unbroken mirrors above a sink. Then his eyes drifted too much to his right. 

He faltered in his quick pace, eyeing the reflection in a cracked mirror. 

Luke thought he was getting quite used to the male body. Specifically the upper half - at least that. Both Irwin and Hood had a bad habit of 'misplacing' their shirts. The men were nearly always covered by only grey pants. The men in the courtyard often felt no need for the clothing. Some even spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner half naked. It was a reoccurring thing in Luke's life at this point. 

Until this very moment in time, there had never been much thought put into the fact that Luke's smallest roommate never had the same issues as the other men of the prison. In fact, Luke was sure the small man never even removed a shoe. 

Now, Luke's eyes were glued to a bare torso. 

Red was leaning over a sink to spit the remaining toothpaste from his mouth, straightening up to toss his bloodred hair through his hair. The little purple, red, and yellow bruises directed eyes to the waistline of his pants or to the sharpest point of his jaw. He had to shift his weight on his feet for Luke to see the small half-moon shape framing perky nipples. 

In all actuality, if you weren't paying an excessive amount of attention to the shade of the already pale skin it was an invisible shape. The scars had nearly faded to match to clear, milky skin. 

->++<\- 

If Luke had ever implied he was coping well with the looming threat over his head, well, he'd take it back now. 

Three days after Luke forced himself to use the disgusting showers he realized he'd need another very soon. 

Or at least a paper towel to wipe up the blood with.

There was a large chance his tooth was broken. His lip was split in two, ripping into a healed hole where he use to place a black ring- before the officers took it on his first day. 

He thanked whatever god there might be that it wasn't his nose. He really likes his nose, thank you very much. 

Red's small body - pure muscle, if Luke were a betting man - was pressed tight against his own. The man that should be leveled just under the blonds breastplate had his forearm to Luke's throat. 

He would question what got him here, but it wasn't much of a questioning matter. Red's had it out for him since he arrived. It's only now that he's truly getting his hands dirty. 

Luke feels his knees being pushed out from under his own lanky body. Red is suddenly holding all of the six foot four man's weight with only one arm, still at his throat, stopping any and all oxygen flow. 

The blond could feel his left eye starting to swell and the hand creeping up to yank his hair, and effectively pull his head back. 

Luke regrets not taking those dumb self-defense classes all those years ago. 

***

New pictures of Lucas Hemmings, son of Elizabeth and Andrew Hemmings, are surfacing after brother Benjamin Hemmings spoke to TMZ about...

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	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, idk but we're rollin' now so lets see. :-)

"You had your whole in front of you! You could've been a great, successful cardiovascular surgeon. You had all these wonderful plans and-" "No, ma, you had plans."

***

Luke wondered why the officers running this hell never seemed to get involved in anything. In all the movies or T.V. shows he'd ever seen - e.g. Orange is the New Black - the officers were quick to break up any fighting between inmates. 

"Motherfucker!" 

Luke has managed to collect two black eyes, a broken hand, and likely some fractured ribs, along with many, many split lips and purple bruises. On the bright side though, he hasn't broken his nose yet. 

He really likes his nose. 

He's dabbing the blood away from a particularly nasty gash nearing his waistline. It's a deep cut, probably two inches long, laying almost completely vertical. There was no doubt in the blonde's mind that the wound was the after effect of a rough run-in with a size-six prison-regulation shoe. Don't ask how he'd know the size. 

The medical team was literally useless unless it was a life-or-death situation. They weren't allowed to hand out any type of non-prescription medicine. It was like going to the middle school nurse, a waste of everyone's time.

"Ah, nice one, Princess." The blond man stiffens at the nickname. He can hear the laugh in the man's voice. Fight-or-Flight was always on Luke's mind at the sound of that voice. The 'fight' region of his brain wanted to challenge that laugh, ask the man what was so fucking funny about beating another man to near death. The rational part, however, says to shut the fuck up and wait patiently for the other man to leave. 

"M' names Luke," He hears himself saying. 

Blue eyes are widened unnaturally and he has to force himself not to turn to watch Zeus' reaction. 

"Princess suits you better, don't you think?" 

Luke doesn't answer but he does eventually turn away from his little bed to face the rest of his cell. Ashton has made himself at home on Red's bunk. His feet dangle about halfway down to the lower bed and his shoulders are hunched over. Clasped hands to his chin, elbows on his knees. It makes it easy for Luke to see the small tattoos on the sides of both wrists. Five tally marks and a lightly colored heart. Heart on your sleeve, huh, Irwin.

"You got any?" 

His blue eyes meet the older man's pretty, earthy colored ones, a question in the look. What?

"What?"

"You're staring at my tats, man. You got any?"

Luke lets his head drop to his own hands, huffing out a sarcastic laugh. "No, not too fond of needles."

"Yeah, I get that. They're not as bad as you'd think, though, kinda goes numb after a bit. At least most of mine did," Irwin taps the back of his neck. His hair isn't styled as well today, so some of the wild curls from the longer top area fall back to barely reach the all black skin. "This one hurt like a bitch the whole damn time."

"I'd probably be disowned if I went home with a giant eagle on my neck," The words pour like Niagra from thin lips, another awkward laugh helps the mood. 

"You pay a lot of attention to shit, don't you, Princess." Zeus is leaning forward in his place, hands going down between legs that are parting to make it easier for the man to almost literally bend in half.

"Some things require a little more attention," Luke finds himself using the same tone of voice he had used the day he met his first ever boyfriend. He concludes that this is not a situation he wants to be in, but doesn't pull away from it. 

"How did you know it's an eagle? It's a fucking shaded outline."

"So it is, then? Lucky guess, I suppose." 

"Harvard or Yale? See, I can do it too, Princess." Oh, so its a competition now. 

"You gave me choices, which shows me that you cannot 'do it'. Although I'm not sure what the school I went to has to do with your tattoos."

"Nothing, but you're obviously an early grad. on daddy's money. Snap judgment, specifically tattoo related seems to be your thing. Based purely on my appearance you think you know me. Automatically assumed you're smarter than me. Yale bitch for sure. Tell me I'm wrong." 

Zeus is ever so smug. Confident in himself, as if he knew for sure he was right. Luke was about to burst that bubble. 

"As... rude as that was," Luke pulls the right side of his mouth into a smirk, ready to watch the other man's drop. "I was a tiger. Princeton U."

"Sure, Princess. Still going with Yale, final answer."

"You're still wrong, how would you fucking know anyways. Sub Dei potestate sumus germinabunt. It's Latin."

"It's also wrong. It's 'Dei sub numine Viget' which roughly translates to 'Under God's power she flourishes'. What you said was 'Under God's power we flourish' with odd grammar, by the way." The man jumped to the hard floor of the prison cell. His smile is sincere. "You went to Yale." 

"What, did you go to Princeton then?" It's sounding too much like Luke doesn't think it possible. He doesn't.

"Nope. I didn't go to Yale either. Plus, I've got no way to look you up in here, I'm just that good."

They're face to face. In true battle-of-wits fashion, they had both risen to their full heights. Shoulders back, back straight, nose up. 

Luke really likes his nose.

He looks down it at Ashton, who is more than a few inches shorter than Luke. It was dawning on the younger man that he may have more in common with the handsome criminal than he would like to admit. The fact he could translate Latin was more than a sure sign that this man is much more intelligent than Luke had assumed. Luke had placed him as the silent henchman to the redheaded villain. Maybe he had a larger part in this story than anticipated.

Realizing that either way the man in front of him could potentially kill him with nothing more than his dominant hand and a bit of want-to, Luke tries his luck. "You better get out of here before Red catches you being civil with me." 

"Maybe you're right, but I think I can handle it. Kinda like a Jellyfish," Irwin is in the doorway now, and Luke is reminded of why his assigned nickname - Zeus - is so relevant. "You gotta know where to grab 'em."

Luke could almost hear the alluded words 'Gotta know where to touch 'em, so you don't get stung.' He would've given it more thought if he hadn't melted into his bed at the wink Ashton had sent him before disappearing into the rush of men heading to dinner. 

Dinner is uneventful for Luke. He catches himself looking to Red's table more than what he knows he should, but that's a usual thing. 

"Might wanna lay off mate. Red's still got it out for you," Tomlinson mentions offhandedly while chewing a surprisingly edible chicken sandwich. 

Luke has a bowl of that morning's leftover oatmeal, seeing as he's still not allowed real food. Red's orders no doubt. 

"Lay off what? I'm literally not doing anything." 

"Sure. Lay off the eyes you're giving Irwin. He's one of Red's boys, and Red doesn't take too kindly to advances on his boys." The guide raises his eyebrows in a friendly teasing gesture. 

"You're already in some shit with the guy, wouldn't push it farther," Corden advises in a kind tone, not once looking up from his plate. 

"I'm not trying to, trust me. Anyway, I really hoped this pissing contest would be over by now." 

"'Pissing contest', that's what you're calling it?" 

"Man, you're a fuckin' mile behind if that's what it is." The Irish man laughs an attention-catching laugh. "Give it up, mate."

But Luke is too busy locking eyes with the curly haired man to really take in the warnings behind their jests. 

He smiles small at the handsome Zeus reincarnate. Ashton rolls his eyes, flicking them to the other members of his table and giving a half shrug. Luke nods and Ashton flips his left-hand palm up in a 'what can you do' motion.

Luke hums at his friends' conversations. They've all moved on to prison politics and the latest gossip. But he's still watching the suspiciously smart man across the room. 

Red is on the right of the muscular man, one hand latching onto his bicep. Luke's more envious than jealous, and yes, there is a difference. Jealousy would imply that he doesn't like or want Red's hand on the man, which isn't exactly true. He doesn't mind the sight, to be completely honest, he just wished - somewhere far in the back of his mind - that he would be allowed to do the same. After nearly two months of close-quartered confinement, and one true conversation, Luke was developing what he liked to call a primary level crush. 

Like a primary school crush, but more likely based on sexual attraction. Primary level crushes, in Luke's opinion, are built on sexual attraction and one redeeming quality. For Luke, this was apparently Irwin's brain. Being a bit of a nerd himself, Luke always found himself attracted to snobby, rich, Einsteins. 

Now, Ashton didn't fit all requirements of the perfect boyfriend material. But, hey, it's prison. What can you really expect? Besides, Ashton had one-upped him earlier, and - as much as he hated to admit it even to himself - it was kind of the biggest turn-on Luke had encountered in this hell. 

Throughout the allotted dinner time, Ashton kept sending Luke awkward hand signals, wiggling his eyebrows when no one was looking. He even took a chance of sticking his abnormally long tongue - is everything of his so long? Luke does and doesn't want to know - out at the blond. 

Every time the curly man sends a cute signal or expression to the now giggling blond he'll put a hand on Red's thigh, or reach to brush a stray piece of hair from the tanned beauty's face. It's all a game to him. It's taking Luke far too long to discover the truth in his prior 'Jellyfish' statement. 

As much as it may look like Red is the top dog around here, Ashton seems to have both men wrapped around his fingers. 

Luke nearly laughs aloud when Zeus sends the smallest man a teasing remark in the dark of their cell. It's late and Luke knows he's not supposed to hear their late night talks, but he does. Ashton calls his small lover 'Jellyfish', and they both nearly lose their cool composure.

"Jellyfish? That's new," Red almost giggles at it as well, "Sounds like something my dad would've called me when I was, like, three." 

"I like it," Hood hums, unknowingly. "It kind of suits you, babe. You're kind of like a Jellyfish." 

Ashton loses it. 

Luke has to bite his tongue. 

***

While the Hemmings family refuses to release specific details about the Hemmings vs. The Public case, there are many speculations about the awareness of... 

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	5. Fifth In the Nation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took for hell and ever and i'm too awkward for this .
> 
> :-)

"Alice Douglas." "Franklin Ervinton." "Ashlyn Hall." "Amelia Hall." "Jackson Ireson." Name, after name. Each belonging to another person he doesn't know. "Ashton Irwin," 

***

As priorly mentioned, Luke always seems to get himself into way more trouble than he can handle. 

This time it's nothing to do with Red. It's a middle-aged Hispanic man. Rodriguez is tattooed head-to-toe, 5'11, 240 pounds of shit Luke doesn't want to deal with. So when - due only to Luke's height - he was asked to participate in a 'friendly' basketball tournament, the offer was obviously declined. 

That was where the Austrailian should've taken his leave and retired to his cell until lunch. Luke being the common-senseless Yale student that he is, did not leave the courtyard. Instead, he stayed, eventually getting talked - bullied? - into playing a game. And these men took their basketball games very, very seriously. 

It turns out that they were playing for a pack of cigarettes someone had smuggled into the cell block. So there was a lot of foul play and bias referees. 

Luke tried to stay behind everyone. Tried to stay off to the side so no one would pass him the ball or anything equally stupid. He's smart, not athletic. 

His plan didn't really fly with any of the players though, as they would go out of their way to bump and crash into him. He was on the concrete more than he was upright. And when his team lost, it was blamed on the new guy. 

Honestly, Luke was livid about it. Not balls-y enough to do anything about it, but livid nonetheless. How was it his fault they lost? How was it his fault their usual teammate had family visiting and didn't come to play ball? Luke wouldn't either. 

He didn't even want to play, damn it. 

So he skipped lunch to clean yet another wound. 

It's not like he was missing much, he was still being served the worst of the worst. The least amount they could give him without causing trouble for themselves. Luke wondered how Red even got the authority to do that, cause he wants it.

Since flirting with Red's boyfriend the day before his brain had come up with an awful plan overnight. If he could get Irwin to like him, Irwin could get Red to like him - or at least let up on the torture. It was an awful idea because the redhead already hated him, and flirting with his lover? Yeah, that's sure to change that. 

->++<\- 

His back was pressed against the cold wall, a harsh contrast to the water flowing from the shower head just above him. He clenched his fists to his side in an effort to keep himself still. 

He could faintly hear the chatter of inmates from the other side of the restroom walls. He knew, however, that there would be no interruptions today, the doors on either side had been locked. The cleaning signs were put up, but everyone knows that nothing is getting cleaned today. 

Ashton lets his head drop back, open mouth collecting little drops of steaming water. "Holy shit," 

His hands found a way to the blood red hair on their own. He knew they'd be stained with the dark color, but still tugged roughly on the strands. 

"Jesus, Mike." 

"Off the hair, or I swear I'll leave you here." Red looks up through his eyelashes. The visibility level was near zero with the steam of the shower mixing with the water in his eyes, but he knew Ashton could see him, and really that was the point of all this. 

"Okay, okay, just-" 

"Yeah, yeah." Nearly all of the man's words are laced with a harsh sarcasm, these are no different. 

Red waits until the other man's hands are by the wall in fists once again before returning to the task at hand. Literally. 

Michael made slow work of teasing Ashton with small licks, occasionally letting his teeth scrape the sensitive skin. Never fully taking the curly haired man's cock into his mouth. 

 

Michael's shoulders are once again tinted red, along with his cheeks. Ashton doesn't know if that's due to his blood red hair dye dripping from his half dry hair or if it has more to do with the purple bruises he'd left on the small man's hips. 

->++<-

"What are you looking for?" Ashton hears his lover snap from across the - fake - wooden table. 

This would make the third day that Ashton had noticed a missing presence during dining hours. The last time he'd spotted a certain blue eyed Yale student with any type of food was four days ago. He'd overheard the blond complaining about a basketball game, which only stood out to Ashton because said blond did not seem the sporty type. 

Whatever, Ashton's not sure why he cares. 

He doesn't. 

"What the fuck, Curls?" 

"Where's Cal?" Ashton asks to sooth his firecracker of a boyfriend. Red was always quick to assume the worst, and was never any slower in expressing disapproval in the worst ways. 

Ashton moves his left leg further out from his body, nudging a thin ankle under the table. He hides a satisfied smirk at the way Red seems to deflate. 

"Phones." The younger, smaller man nods to the doors that could really go anywhere, hoping Ashton understood. "Mali called about the lawyer again. Cal said she really thinks it'll work out." 

Finally acknowledging his lover the curly haired man feels his eyebrows push together. "They've talked recently? When did he tell you this?" He meets eyes with ever-troubled green ones. 

"I dunno, a couple days ago? You were there." 

An eyebrow lift is all Ashton can offer. He does, however, put a large hand palm down on the table and slide his left foot up a toned calf. 

"Anyways, Cal says she should just give it up. I don't do legal shit, so I told him this morning that I'd ask you about it. Don't tell me now though, I'll never remember it. Figured he'll talk to you about it on is own tonight anyways."

"Don't push it if he doesn't."

"When have I ever-" The younger of the duo cuts himself off with a fake gasp and a hand to his own chest. A look of mock hurt paints itself across his sharp facial features. 

"I'm serious, Red. Don't push him on this." 

Ashton finally pulls his foot back to the ground. 

Michael Clifford was a true piece of work. Sometimes he was art work. Sometimes, though, he was more like an office job to Ashton.

They hold eye contact for a moment longer than the leader had expected before Ashton drops his eyes to the surface of the table. 

Red scoffs, as if it was the most predictable move. It was. No one challenges him anymore, they've all learned better by now. 

Michael doesn't feel the toe of his own shoe meet with Ashton's ankle, but Ashton does. 

And when their Kiwi lover doesn't open up about his discussion with his sister, well,

Michael doesn't push it. 

->++<-

Luke only left the cell for a quick wee. He'd expected his roommates to be settled in their beds - rather, Red's bed - by the time he returned. Dinner was long over, and he knew from too many close calls that the trio showered in the early morning. 

But it seemed that they'd spared another trip to the showers that day. 

(They did, only because Calum had missed out on the days prior activities, and they all knew he liked to watch the water roll down Ashtons body.)

Luke had nearly sat on the little gift left on his bed. He'd honestly not thought anyone would notice he was missing. His so called 'friends' didn't seem to care if he breathed or not. 

There was half a sandwich wrapped messily in crumpled tin-foil, and a cup of strawberries he hadn't gotten since his first meal in prison. 

The note - though he'd not eaten much over the past days, and felt as if he was truly starving - is what stood out the most to him.

'This place is a mind game, don't let it beat you.

~Stanford Grad'

And goddamn it if Ashton Irwin wasn't a 'mind game' in himself. 

***

Mali-Koa Hood was spotted in LA at the original H-squared offices. While witness claim the meeting was all business, secretary Jane Alcantara says...

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	6. Six Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School started back, but I sucked at updating anyways so :-)

Control was never in his hands.  He didn't know how to lead or teach.  He's a horrible influence to children.                                           He's changing that.

***

Michael was in a hospital bed when the police came in to question him.  By law the doctors had to allow them in, his mother hot on their heels. 

"What do you think you're doing? You can't be here! I will be speaking with my lawyer."

"Ma'am we have a wa-"

"Leave it, Ma."

Michael was never one to beat around the bush.  There was no getting out of this one, he physically couldn't run.  The chance of him sweet talking his way out of this was slim to none.  

The officer begins a long speech, the whole nine yards of legalities and questions.  Michael wasn't listening.  He's in pain, he doesn't need this. 

"I demand to speak with a lawyer!" His mother screeches again.  He's not even sure why she's here playing the part of a loving mother.  His best guess was his grandmother had ratted him out to her daughter-in-law in hopes of Karen and Michael reconnecting.

Mentally shrugging he decided to let her go at it.  She did eventually get them to agree to call her lawyer- something they would have likely done from the beginning had she given the smallest chance. They couldn't move him yet anyways.

His grandmother never moved from her place beside him in the uncomfortable looking hospital chair.  Her hand never leaving his as they watched Karen push the last officer out of the room. 

 Her motherly act ended immediately. 

"What is this with the police? I got a call asking if I knew where you where.  They accused me of harboring a fugitive!"

"They did not, Karen."  Annie's voice was always soft.  "He's not in that type of trouble." 

She was lying without even knowing it.  Michael had hoped she'd never know it.  She was the only person he had left, that cared at least. 

He didn't know how to tell her she was wrong.  Would never give his mother the satisfaction.  

His mother had never supported him, as Annie had.  To her he was a last ditch effort to save her failing marriage, she never wanted children. 

They only distanced more when he came out to his family, causing him to move in with his fathers parents at fourteen.  

"Oh, she's always been trouble.  You've just let her get by with it." Karen's glaring eyes fly from the elderly woman to her only child. 

"Honestly, Olivia, what were you thinking?" 

Michael only rolls his eyes away from her, unresponsive to the squeeze Annie gives his right hand. 

"I should have never let her go with you people!" 

"You didn't let me do anything, Karen.  You fucking forced me.  Why would I stay somewhere when I know I'm not wanted.  Papa did more for me in five years than you ever have." 

Michael spoke of his late grandfather who drove over eighteen hours across the country to pick Michael up after his mother had kicked him out.  The man who paid for surgeries and legal changes to documents.  Who never forgot Michael's birthday, even when his own mother did.  

Gordon Clifford never once - okay, maybe once - slipped an incorrect pronoun.  He helped to erase any trace of his dead name on basically everything he owned.  He'd put Michael's name correctly on his old baby pictures, even helped to change it legally.  

Michael's grandparents were everything to him. And when Gordon took his last breath Michael's world crashed into pieces around him.  

He turned to all sorts of things he'd told himself he'd never do... Again. 

Karen was right, he'd always been trouble. 

->++<-

Karen hadn't visited since his second month in the prison. Six years later here she is, sitting in front of him.


End file.
